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Wednesday, January 30, 2002 Something interesting's been happening in classes this week. There are now only three other students in the group: another American, the German 20-something, Jan, and Hiroko, the Japanese woman. Jan and Hiroko sit next to each other down at one end of our small classroom's table. Both bright, both interesting people, both apparently a bit shy -- both appearing to have a lot more going on inside than gets expressed in the classroom setting. During the past couple of days, Hiroko has cast discreet, lingering glances at Jan, studying his face for a moment or two when his attention was on his notes or as he looked up a word in his dictionary. With a small smile on her face, and a soft, sometimes amused expression. Before long, they began helping each other out with answers as we went through homework aloud, working on the dreaded, ubiquitous subjunctive verb form. If she found herself stumped or flailing a bit for an answer, he'd mutter it to her. At one point, he apparently lost his place in what we were doing, got called on, I heard a soft, repeated sound, it turned out to be Hiroko tapping her finger on the correct section of his homework. All this actually happened in a low-profile way, with a light comic air and a wry touch. Fun to watch. Doesn't feel like anything extracurricular is happening. Hiroko seems happily ensconced in a four-month-old marriage. And Jan, well, he has so far played his cards close to his chest when it comes to his life, at least in the classroom setting, so I know little about him. It's just a nice connection between two people who found themselves sitting next to each other in Spanish classes for a couple of weeks. And it's nice to be around. I was out with other folks from the school last night -- Philip, Richard, Richard’s sweetheart, Carmen, and Veronique, a bright, attractive young French woman. They came here to Chueca, a barrio known for nightlife, and we went joint-hopping, beginning with a tapas bar near here, then moving to Angel Sierra, another nearby joint with different atmosphere, far more drinking. (I'm not much of a drinker, and don't want to be. What's that old Woody Allen line? Something like, "I got very drunk last night and when I woke up I was trying to give the Statue of Liberty a hickey." That would be me. I'm what's referred to as a cheap date, and really don't enjoy sucking down gallons of liquor. But a beer and some tapas suits me fine, especially if the company is good, which it was last night.) We moved on to a third establishment, owned by the Spanish actor Javier Bardem (or by someone in his family) -- more upscale, like a large, happening living room with a bar planted in it. And somewhere along the way, Richard became very affectionate toward Carmen, very demonstrative, which she clearly enjoyed, and it was a pleasure to be around all that, to see them happy, pleased to be together. This love thing -- it really is the foundation. And simply being around it sometimes leaves me feeling mighty tender toward people and life. Doesn’t have to be grand, right-out-there love. Small, sweet, affectionate regard has its place. They both leave me feeling like a big softy. Being one of the parties in love is nice, too. But that's another story. rws 1:59 PM [+] |